


acknowledgement, absolution

by hibiscxs



Series: Release [2]
Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25823035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscxs/pseuds/hibiscxs
Summary: “And why am I being punished?” she asked. In front of his daughters, it was as good as a challenge.“You know what you did."Legacies 1x02-1x03
Relationships: Hope Mikaelson/Alaric Saltzman
Series: Release [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873672
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	acknowledgement, absolution

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as the second chapter of a fic entitled "Release" (now entitled "copper on his tongue", the first work in the series called "Release"), but I've decided to post them as separate works in one series since I'm not sure whether I'll be writing more of it or not.  
> Takes place over 1x02 and 1x03, with some reference to 1x01 at the beginning.

He should have seen it coming. Ric knew exactly how Hope looked when she was near a breaking point. When she had come into his room two days ago while he was with Lizzie, he knew what she had come looking for, and it wasn’t permission to wolf out in the woods. The next time he saw her, she had seemed more subdued, so he assumed that turning had done the trick. But then he told her about Landon and the missing knife. 

He watched a rage build in her with every word he spoke. But it was worse, because it wasn’t just rage. It was betrayal. It was humiliation. He had expected her to seek him out that night, all biting kisses and snarling and daring him to make her hurt. Instead, Emma reported the next morning that Hope Mikaelson had used black magic.

It had been little more than a locator spell, so Ric turned a blind eye, hoping that whatever thrill she had gotten from her bout of dark magic was enough of a release. If they had actually found Landon, maybe it would have been. Instead, they found a bus full of burnt bodies. Hope had been horrified and guilt-stricken, but Ric also saw a lick of satisfaction— she had been right to track Landon.

Finding the death spell had chilled Ric. He looked over to her, crouching next to the dragon’s corpse. That ache in his chest— the one that had become too common since he and Hope had started whatever it was they were doing— opened up again like an old wound. Klaus had poked Ric full of holes, filled them up with himself, and then left them gaping. Looking at Klaus’s daughter, as powerful and vengeful and terrible as he had been, only reminded Ric of the holes. When she turned and saw him with the page in hand, she at least had the decency to look nervous.

He didn’t want to yell, but he couldn’t help but panic over seeing her go down this road like it was a path that had already been decided for her. “This hatred? This _vengeance_ … This is your _father_ ,” he said like a curse. Her jaw flexed. The holes pulsed unpleasantly, as if even speaking of Klaus aloud made him more present. “This can’t be you. I won’t allow it,” he said decisively, needing to banish Klaus not only from the mind he had once imprisoned, but from his daughter as well. When Ric turned away from her, his disappointment heavy in the air, she looked still too defiant, even with a tear running down her cheek.

By the time Ric got to the car, Landon and Raphael were gone, and had left only a letter addressed to Hope. When he passed it to her, she read it with a hard mouth and tight fingers, but smoothed out the creases she had created and tucked it carefully into her pocket.

They were over halfway back to the school when Hope asked him to pull over on some deserted stretch of road. He ignored her. A minute later the engine sputtered to a stop. The car had barely stopped moving when she climbed into his lap, lips at his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw, “I’m sorry,” on his cheek, “I’m sorry,” to the corner of his mouth. Hope laid her hands on his chest, let her lips hover an inch from his, and waited for acknowledgement, for absolution. “Ric…” she whispered, voice shaking. He cupped her cheek, and felt the wetness of her tears against his palm. Under the soft glow of the moon, she looked younger than usual. He sighed, then drew her down towards him and kissed her gently— a rarity between them. Her shoulders trembled. When she slipped her hand under the hem of his shirt, he pushed her away, gritting his teeth.

“You can’t fix it like this, Hope. Not with this, not this time.”

The pain of rejection flashed across her face, but it was gone as soon as Ric recognized it, leaving only a hard gaze. She removed herself from his lap, and Ric mourned the loss of her heat in spite of himself.

“I didn’t actually do anything,” she said.

Ric glared at her in disbelief. “You were going to kill him.”

The car came back to life like nothing had been wrong with it. The headlights illuminated the road in front of them, and the brightness of them made the interior of the car feel dark in comparison. In the harsh light, Hope’s resemblance to the girl who had been crying in his lap just a moment ago faded. “I already have blood on my hands,” she whispered. He couldn’t argue with her, so he looked forward and drove.

* * *

He checked the lock on the front gate out of paranoia after hugging his daughters, the reality that he had nearly left them fatherless hitting him hard. Lizzie had a bruise around her eye and Josie had guilt in hers, but it was nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. The first thing he did when he got back to his room was pour a glass of whiskey for himself, then hit the shower to get the scent of dragon smoke off him.

When he exited the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, the fire was roaring. Hope sat on the edge of his bed. The glass that he had only taken a few sips out of was empty on his nightstand.

“Hi,” she said. Ric must have inhaled some smoke earlier, or perhaps his alcohol tolerance had somehow dropped to nothing, because she didn’t look quite real. She must have bathed since they got back, because her long hair was damp, drying into loose waves over her shoulder. Instead of the pajamas he was familiar with, she was in a white nightgown that Ric was sure Rebekah had picked out for her. With the pale moonlight hitting her from the window, and the fireplace casting writhing flicks of warm light from the other side, she looked like something only half-there— half an intruder and half-belonging to the backdrop of his bedroom.

“It’s late. You should be in bed,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shrugged. “I _am_ in bed.”

Ric was not having it. “You shouldn’t be here, Hope.”

She looked down at her lap to avoid his reproachful look, her shoulders falling. “I know, I’m sorry.” Her fingers curled into the duvet. “It’s just…you were so angry at me earlier…” Ric swallowed, trying to push down the instinct to apologize. She raised her head, and her tears glistened in the light. She was that girl again— the one that Ric had seen earlier, vulnerable and broken in his lap. “Please don’t hate me,” she said in a small voice.

He melted, like he always did when he saw her tears. How could he not? This side of her was so different from her usual self— strong, invincible, terrible— he often forgot it existed. He was in front of her in two strides, wiping away her tears. This close, he could smell the vanilla from her shampoo, or maybe a soap, mixed with the woody aroma of his whiskey. She stared up at him, smiling in relief. Her fingers closed around his wrist, holding his hand in place so she could lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. Ric continued to stroke her cheek.

Hope turned her face to nuzzle his palm, and Ric sucked in a breath when she pressed a kiss to the base of his outstretched thumb. Her eyes were open and on his when she parted her lips and took the digit between them. Her tongue was warm and wet, rubbing on the pad of his thumb. Ric drew it back, and she sucked evenly up its length as it exited her mouth, lips puckered around it. He stared hard at the sight, and dragged his wet thumb halfway across her mouth before he swallowed and pulled away.

“Hope…” It was both a warning and a plea at once. Her hold on his wrist was firm, keeping him from straying. She buried her face in his stomach and shook her head.

“Princess,” she corrected him softly. The word sent a jolt straight to his groin. Rick hissed out a breath as his cock strained against the towel. “I’m sorry for what I did today,” she murmured against the protrusion of his hip bone. She glanced up at him, meeting his pained gaze. “Let me make it up to you.” 

Ric swallowed, fingering the smooth fabric of her dress’s neckline. He nodded almost imperceptibly. There was a hint of a smirk in her smile as she tugged on the towel. It fell to a heap around his feet. She peppered slow, wet kisses to his cock, starting low at the base until she reached the tip, where she flicked her tongue along the underside of his head. He couldn’t help but groan when she took his length into her mouth.

Her mouth was hot and wet around him, her tongue swirling around his tip and licking up his shaft as she bobbed her head between his legs. Her hands pumped and twisted around his cock where her lips couldn’t reach, or cupped and gently squeezed his sack. Ric tried to clench his eyes shut or look skywards, knowing that if he caught her dark gaze for too long he would lose whatever control he had left. She took him in too deeply, the back of her mouth closing around him. Ric darted to look at her as she gagged around the tip of his cock. 

She was a vision. Her eyes were teary looking up at him, dark like he knew they would be. Wrapped around his cock, her lips were red and wet, jaw wide. He tightened his fingers where they had traveled up to her hair. His breath was heavy as he looked down on her, taking her in. Experimentally, he tilted his hips forward, grunting when the tip of his cock met the back of her mouth. She moaned, the sound half-discomfort and half-submission. Her eyes watered as he pressed on, hissing in pleasure at the slick, rougher feel of her throat. She gripped his thighs tightly, eyes closed like she was concentrating. He watched her, knowing that the sight of her, teary-eyed and gagging on his cock, was going to come to him whenever he saw her in the halls for the next few weeks.

The sound she made when he finally pulled his hips back was wretched and obscene and fucking beautiful. He resisted the urge to thrust his cock back down her throat just to hear it again. She went back to sucking on it so eagerly that Ric nearly broke. He wrenched her up by the hair and kissed her savagely. It was wet and sloppy, more tongue than lips, and still her hands twisted up and down his length. He picked her up, fingers digging into her thighs, and turned to sit himself on the bed with her in his lap. He hiked her dress up past her hips with no hesitation, and growled when he found her bare underneath.

“Fuck,” he cursed. She opened her mouth to speak, but whatever she meant to say turned into a gasp when he slid his fingers into her with ease. “You’re already so wet,” he whispered.

Hope nodded eagerly, pressing down onto his fingers. “I’ve been ready for you,” she said. She moved his hand aside, then wrapped hers around his cock and sunk onto it, lips parted in a restrained moan. Ric rocked up into her, but she pushed his face up to look at her. “Don’t,” she instructed. “Just—” a cry cut her off when she slid back up his length, “let me make you feel good,” she whispered, cradling his face. She sunk back down onto him, and he grunted his affirmation. It was all he could do to run his hands under her gown and trace his mouth and tongue wherever he could reach as she bounced on his cock. He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his moans into her chest. Ric mouthed at a nipple, trying to focus on the hard, pebbled flesh under the stiff fabric of her gown, wetted by his lips, instead of the increasing pressure at the base of his cock.

Ric gasped and cursed, placing his hands on Hope’s moving hips to try and still them. “Shit, princess, wait—” he groaned. “I need to—”

She caught his wrists. “No,” she said, whimpering with effort as she continued to ride him. Ric growled, squeezing onto the curve of her ass. “I want you to come inside me,” she panted.

“ _F_ _ucking—_ ”

The cry she made was desperate, and she pressed her face to his cheek, letting the sound pour into his ear. “Come on,” she encouraged, slamming back down onto his cock. “Don’t I feel good?”

Ric choked on a _god, yes_. She felt so fucking amazing, he would stay buried in her for the rest of his life if only he could.

She continued to whisper into his ear. “Please, Ric. I want to feel your cum in me,” she begged. “Hmm? For your princess, please?” He wrapped his arms around her like a vice as he thrusted up into her uncontrollably, his orgasm cresting and riding through his bones. She gasped when he came, cock still wrapped up in her tight walls, spilling his hot cum into her. She tightened around him— it sent him spinning— and continued to fuck herself on him, riding him through his orgasm until he stilled, breath heavy with exhaustion.

When he began softening inside her, she lifted herself up and forward, laying him out on his back. She pressed a light kiss to his mouth.

“Thank you,” she said, laughing. Ric only nodded as he breathed heavily, head still swirling. After he caught his breath and they cleaned up, she tucked herself against him, nuzzling her cheek to his chest.

Ric woke just moments before dawn while Hope stole away from his room like a ghost, not looking behind her. The other side of his bed was warm from where she had slept. He had never let her spend the night in his bed before. She had never asked before. It wasn’t until he was about to drift off again that he remembered the death spell.

* * *

She had the audacity to look surprised when he sent her to community service with his daughters. Hell, even the twins looked surprised. Guilt roiled in his gut when he realized how rarely he actually punished Hope, how often he bent for her tears, her kiss, her touch.

“And why am I being punished?” she asked. In front of his daughters, it was as good as a challenge.

 _You were planning to kill a kid with black magic, and then you used sex to get me to forgive you_ , he would have said, if Josie and Lizzie hadn’t been around, ears perked in curiosity. “You know what you did,” he said instead. A flash of surprise crossed her face before she glanced away, unable to hold his flat glare. Ric ignored Lizzie’s pleased look.

She lingered after the twins left, her presence an open flame at his back that he was trying his hardest to ignore. Whatever shame she had momentarily felt disappeared. “Seriously?” she asked, her indignation a jagged edge in her voice. 

“What part of what I said needs translating?” Ric snapped back, like she didn’t normally tear down his authority with every breath she took.

She backed down, sanding away her exposed edges. “I want to help you with research,” she said softly, like she was only ever his helpful student.

She was that girl again, Ric thought. The one he had seen yesterday. He needed her gone. “I think the adults have it covered.”

She bristled, like he had snapped that edge anew. “That’s not fair,” she sneered, stepping closer to him. “You only play by the grown-up rules when you don’t need something from me.”

Ric crossed his arms between them, as if he could physically hold on to his unflinching facade, even as the memory of last night came to him in a flash. “Right now, I need you to be a kid,” he said, speaking only the truth. _Be a child. Don’t be who you were last night,_ he thought, remembering her tears, her smirk when he gave in to her, her warmth still on his sheets. _I won’t survive her._

* * *

Hope tries to be a kid for the rest of the day, as if she hadn’t started the day in her headmaster’s bed. She snipes at Lizzie and picks up trash. She snipes at Josie _about_ Lizzie and then shares excited looks with her over Landon’s note.

She has to go back to being Hope Mikaelson, tribrid extraordinaire, at some point. A gargoyle attacks Lizzie, attacks the school, attacks her. Doctor Saltzman jumps between her and a knife. Hope holds back a scream. Josie doesn’t. She squeezes Josie’s hand and lets her channel her magic so they can blow the monster up into a million tiny pieces that rain down on them.

Josie turns away from her to scream at her father. _How could you jump in front of her like that?_

Hope privately wonders the same thing with a tight throat, but doesn’t ask. Instead, she asks about his daughters. Josie’s accusations about keeping secrets with Doctor Saltzman stay with her. “These secrets are gonna tear us all apart,” she says, referring to the knife, the dragon, Landon. But there are other secrets she keeps with Ric that could destroy everything too.

Hope smiles at Josie in the commons, thinks about how Doctor Saltzman was always telling her to make friends, about how she and Josie had laughed together while picking up trash. Josie’s smile melts off her face. Hope goes cold. She turns away, and locks eyes with Landon Kirby.

* * *

Hope marched down the hallway, eyes set on the doors to the Headmaster’s Office. In her mind’s eye, she could see them being blown open, torn from their hinges. The magic thrummed underneath her skin, rushed to her palms, but Hope stopped short. A man stepped out of the room, and he paused upon seeing her.

“Professor Gilbert,” Hope said, surprised. He eyed her before nodding, mumbling out a disgruntled _Mikaelson_ as he stepped passed her. As she entered the office, Hope grimaced at the way he said her name, like he was cursing her instead of greeting her. Jeremy Gilbert had always been chilly with her, which she hadn’t understood until Uncle Kol had told her about his time in Denver. He had apologized to Hope for Professor’s Gilbert’s attitude towards her in his own peculiar way, with more smugness than actual regret. Forget the sins of the father, Hope dealt with the sins of her uncles and aunts and grandparents too. 

Doctor Saltzman glanced up from his papers, eyeing her warily. Josie had definitely inherited that look from him. It was the same look she had just given Hope not ten minutes ago, her smile melting away before she turned back to her sister.

“What is Landon doing here?” Hope asked. She hoped that he didn’t hear the way her voice wavered.

He didn’t respond at first, focusing on the paperwork in front of him. They had the Salvatore School’s emblem printed at the top. “He and Rafael Wraithe were at risk of exposing us, so I sent Jeremy after them.”

“So I was right,” Hope said, triumphant. “Landon can’t be trusted.”

He raised his head, meeting her eyes. “No,” he said sternly, “you weren’t. Landon and Rafael were just being stupid kids. They were being _careless,_ ” he emphasized. “It’s not exactly a hanging offense, Hope.”

“He still stole the knife! And he lied to us,” Hope growled. “Not just about the compulsion, but about dropping the knife in the forest too, and who knows what else.”

He sighed. “Hope—”

“He can’t be trusted, Doctor Saltzman.”

He looked at her like she was a stranger. “What is this, Hope? This isn’t you.”

“Yeah,” Hope scoffed, “this is my father, right? Well, this bit of my father in me is the whole reason you treat me differently than the other students!” He flinched. “I was preparing for the worst, and I was ready to carry it out to protect the school. That’s why you bring me along when things get dangerous! And what, suddenly it's a problem?”

“You know that’s not what this was, Hope!” he shouted, rising from his chair. It wasn’t the anger, but the disappointment in his face that silenced her. “It wasn’t about protecting the school, it was a personal vendetta because Landon lied to _you_. And you were wrong to try to kill him, and you already know that. If you didn’t,” he swallowed, “you wouldn’t have acted the way you did last night.”

Hope blinked, stunned. They basically never spoke about the other side to their relationship. The second they put their clothes back on, tidied the bed or the desk, wiped proof of the other from their skins, it was like it didn’t exist. She watched him press his lips together, as if already regretting what he said. His eyes flicked to the door. After a moment’s hesitation, she cast a locking and silencing spell on the room.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hope said, crossing her arms. “I was just upset. I needed a release, like usual.”

He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t it. You were trying to make me forget.” 

Hope swallowed, not knowing what to say. He was right, wasn’t he? That look he had given her when he found the spell… she had never felt so small. He had never looked at her like that before— like she had disappointed him… not even after she kissed him for the first time. But after seeing that look, Hope had been desperate to make it go away. 

“And this?” He gestured vaguely at her. “What is this? You know you were wrong. I know you do. So why are you picking this fight, Hope?”

She looked away, not wanting to look at his face and see his daughter’s warm smile fade into a mask of disinterest again. Her nails bit into her palm. “I just…” Hope risked looking back up at Ric. He no longer looked angry, but almost expectant, or resigned. “I’m just wound up,” she finished weakly. Hope thought again of Josie’s fading smile, of Landon’s wary eyes, of the way Professor Gilbert had sneered when he said her name, then walked around the desk separating her and Ric. She was hardly breathing when she reached him. Their dry lips had barely brushed when he caught her wrists and spun her. The sharp edge of the desk pressed into her palms and thighs. Hope exhaled slowly. 

She could feel how close he was behind her, but her breath still caught when Ric wrapped a hand around her hip, nudging underneath her shirt to rest at the base of her abdomen. The tip of his pinky just barely touched the waistband of her jeans. Hope’s body ran warm— it was a werewolf thing— so the rough palm of his hand was cool on her skin. His other hand ran across her shoulder blades, twisting to collect her loose hair into a rope wrapped around his fist. Hope shivered. 

She was an artist— a visual person— and once during a new moon, when the outside world has been only a field of blackness, he had pressed her against the window of this office and wrapped her hair around his hand like he was doing now. Hope had watched their dark reflections in the glass, studied the way their bodies moved together, committed the way he looked at her when he didn’t know she was watching to her memory. He pulled evenly on her hair, forcing Hope to tilt her head to the side. His breath was hot on the skin of her neck, and Hope closed her eyes in wait for his lips. Her skin tingled as he hovered an inch away.

“What has you so wound up then, princess?” he asked. Hope bit down on her lip and huffed in frustration. She might turn her head to meet his lips herself, were it not for the hand in her hair keeping her steady. 

“Is talking about my feelings a new form of foreplay?” Hope asked. She lifted her hand from the desk and laid it over the one he had over her stomach. Her small fingers slipped into the spaces between his, nudging them lower. The grip on her hair tightened. Hope gasped when he slammed her hand back onto the desk. 

“Hands on the desk,” he said simply. Heat shot down her spine, settling between her legs. She nodded. “Tell me.”

“I— I felt bad about yesterday,” she began. “Not about the spell, but how I acted after. It was wrong of me, I _do_ know that, but—” she paused before her voice turned into a whine, the memory of the night before pulsing through her whole body. Her tears had been real— there was no need to fake any emotion. If anything, she had been a little too honest. Hope blushed at how she had begged Ric to let her feel his cum inside her, how she had paused in the bathroom afterward to study the sensation of it dripping down her inner thigh, how she could still taste him when she woke up in his bed the next morning. “I was desperate,” she finished.

Ric hummed in acknowledgement and _finally_ pressed his lips to the junction of her neck and shoulder, grazing over the three chains of her necklaces. His tongue left a chilly trail up to her ear. Hope sucked in a breath when his blunt teeth clacked against her earring.

“And Landon,” Hope continued, voice considerably breathier. “He lied to me. The last time someone lied to me like that—” Something caught in her throat, and Ric’s kiss turned gentler on her neck. His hand returned to her stomach, trying to distract her from where her thoughts had been headed— to moonstones and dead mothers. Hope allowed it to work. “And then I saw him in the hall, and he looked almost _scared_ , like—” her voice shook, “like I was some…”

Ric’s hand delved under the waistbands of her jeans and panties, brushing the hair there. His foot knocked between her ankles, and Hope stepped one foot to the side, spreading her legs to make room for his fingers. Hope let herself whimper when they teased her clit in slow circles. Her hands stayed obediently flat against the desk. “What else?” Ric whispered, lips still brushing her ear. Pressed closely together now, she could feel his cock hardening against her lower back.

“Profess— uh— Professor Gilbert,” she stuttered, mouth thick. “I saw him before I came in. He’s never liked me but, _fuck_ —” his fingers slid lower and into her, tasting the wetness there for just a few seconds before reaching back for her clit, “he looked at me like I was a cosmic mistake,” she murmured, Jeremy Gilbert already far from her mind. “You shouldn’t have sent me out today.”

He pulled sharply on her hair, tilting her head back until it was practically resting on his chest. “And why’s that?” he asked, voice low. Hope shook minutely, and she wondered if he could feel it inside her. With her head at this angle, she had to arch her back to keep her hands on the desk and to keep his where they were, sending waves of pleasure radiating to the tips of her toes. His lips trailed roughly over her jaw.

“I could have taken the gargoyle out quicker,” she muttered wryly. “I thought you were going to die, you know,” she said, softer than before. Hope saw again that fading smile. “She hates me again.” Ric twisted her head to bite at her lips, and that smile was gone— faded and forgotten in favor of Ric’s hard kiss. She moaned against his mouth, his fingers moving quicker and harder against her swollen flesh. Hope could feel her release building, the pressure in her body making her rise up on her toes to tilt her hips back against the hardness in his pants, press against his fingers between her thighs, twist her spine despite the tightness on her scalp to better entwine their tongues. Her fingers pressed into the wood of the desk, and she belatedly wondered if it might splinter.

“Who?” Ric asked in between sloppy kisses. Hope groaned. She was not in the right headspace to speak. He let her kiss him again just as Hope felt that delicious tightening in her lower stomach that spread to her clit. Hope mewled against the kiss, lingering as the pressure built. “Who hates you?” he asked again.

She was on the edge. Right on the edge. “Josie,” she answered, whispering against her father’s lips. Ric’s fingers stilled on her clit. Hope’s eyes shot open, her release slipping out of reach. “Fuck,” she said in horror. He stepped back, away, and his fingers left a wet trail up her stomach as his hand slipped from her jeans. There was a thick moment of silence where Hope kept her hands pressed against the unsplintered wood of the desk, too afraid to turn. Finally, she did. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ric leaned against the short shelves in front of the windows, hands clenched and eyes averted. “This needs to stop,” he said quietly. He used to say that a lot in the beginning, but it never did. “You said it yourself earlier tonight— the secrets need to stop. And this is, what, the second night in a row?” He shook his head. “This isn’t normal, even considering...whatever is normal for us.” He took a deep breath, then raised his head to look at her. Hope held her breath, pressing her thighs together. “It’s different this time, right? It isn’t some asshole werewolf taking jabs at you. Landon’s gotten under your skin, Hope. You need to figure that out before—”

Hope nodded sharply. “I understand.” She swallowed. “I— I’m going to go wolf out or som—”

“Go.” He grimaced. “I’ll… I’ll see you for training tomorrow in the gym.”

She practically fled to the doors, smoothing her hair down as she went. They opened in a gust of magic, startling a few students who had no idea what had gone on behind them. Hope marched to the woods. The second she hit the treeline, she began stripping off her clothes, not caring who might be around to see. Her panties were a sticky mess that she discarded among the dead leaves. Hope inhaled deeply as she looked up at the waning moon. She could smell the dirt of the woods and her own arousal. She allowed herself to scream before her bones even began to break.

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't able to keep the comments from when I had this posted as a chapter, but I wanted to at least preserve TieDyeKing's comment of "This is so good! I kinda hate it but I will obsessively read every chapter." because it made me laugh.


End file.
